


Have All Beautiful Things Sad Destinies?

by HunterByDayWhovianByNight



Series: You’ve Got A War, But Who Are You Fighting For? [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Death, Blood and Injury, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Deathfic, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, The "How Bucky Became Captain America" Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterByDayWhovianByNight/pseuds/HunterByDayWhovianByNight
Summary: "The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired." —Robert SoutheyBucky never intended for their end to be this way.





	Have All Beautiful Things Sad Destinies?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been weighing on my mind. I have several more in the works that'll come out soon now that I have officially graduated high school! Title is from "Wide Sargasso Sea" by Jean Rhys.
> 
> ~Hunter

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his limbs went numb when he saw someone grappling with Thanos one-on-one and in such close quarters. He couldn’t make out who it was from this distance- he didn’t have the special Winter Soldier goggles anymore- but as he ran closer, his fear that it was Steve was increased. 

There Steve was, using his bare fucking hands to push back against Thanos and the heavy gold Infinity Gauntlet. Steve looked like he was straining and Thanos looked surprised that Steve could do this. Bucky was standing behind Steve so he couldn’t see his face, but he was ready to assume that his face was focused, angry, and full of fire. Steve’s super soldier body  _ did  _ have its limits; he wasn’t a god or an all-powerful being; he was mortal and could die if Thanos flung him against a tree. 

Bucky had never loaded and aimed his gun faster in his life. He hoped Thanos wouldn’t see him as he hurriedly cocked the gun and lifted it up so he could peer through the sight and fire. Steve was making it hard to aim well, though, because he kept moving his head and closing off Bucky’s target in the center of Thanos’ chest. 

What happened next made Bucky want to turn the gun on himself. 

Bucky didn’t expect Steve to move forward. He didn’t expect Steve to be physically able to throw Thanos back a few feet. He didn’t expect Thanos to just disappear after that. 

He really didn’t expect to shoot Steve in the head. 

Bucky screamed and dropped his gun. He called out for Sam, for Natasha, for  _ anyone  _ who would come, but nobody came. Bucky dropped to his knees beside Steve’s fallen body. The hot, stinging tears in his eyes blinded him and everything in his vision was blurred. 

Bucky cradled Steve’s face, his beautiful, beautiful face, in his hand. The blood smeared as Bucky stroked his face and held him closer. Bucky tried with all of his strength to lift Steve’s lifeless body into his arms, but all he could do was lay Steve’s head gently in his lap. 

The worst part of all this for Bucky was that there were no last words, no parting phrases. There was just Bucky missing his target and Steve dying without knowing Bucky loved him. Bucky was heartbroken. He assumed that there was something star-crossed about the way Steve died, but that was the last thing he could think about. Bucky’s tears fell on Steve’s face, cutting through blood and sweat and grime. Bucky leaned down and gently kissed Steve’s lips, but got nothing in return. 

They stayed like that, with Bucky lovingly touching Steve’s hair and combing through his beard until Sam ran into the small clearing and saw them. Bucky made eye contact with Sam until he started to cry again. 

“I… it was an acci-” Bucky choked out, feeling his insides turn and twist. “I didn’t. He was fighting the…  _ I didn’t do it on purpose.” _

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Sam asked, kneeling down and placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Some-someone was fighting Steve, I tried to shoot him but Steve moved his head and I missed.”

Bucky’s heart was breaking.  _ I missed.  _ Two words he thought he’d never say in his life; he’d always been an excellent shot and the one fucking time it really mattered, he missed. 

“We have to get him back to the capital,” Sam said. “We can’t let him just lay out here.”

Bucky couldn’t hear Sam at all. His ears rang so loud and all he could think about was Steve. His Steve. He killed Steve. He  _ shot  _ Steve and hadn’t been able to get him help or get him to safety; no. He just died right in front of him. 

“I have to be with him,” Bucky said solemnly, bloody fingers grazing Steve’s lips and chest. He stared down at Steve, hoping and praying to whatever God would listen that Steve would be brought back. 

“Come on, Bucky, we have to get out of here,” Sam said, reaching for his hand, but Bucky resisted and pushed him back. He couldn’t stand being parted from Steve right now; the death that he had wrought by his own hand was too much to bear, was too fresh in his mind. Bucky continued to hold Steve’s head in his lap, not even caring that blood was pouring into his lap every time he jostled Steve’s head.

Bucky heard movement in the brush behind him, but he was too overwhelmed to even comprehend it or turn around to see who was behind him. If it was death, it would feel better than this. If it was death, he could be with Steve. He felt a pulse of energy go throughout his body and then everything went dark.

~~~~~

Bucky woke up hours later in a hospital bed in what he assumed was the Wakandan capital. He didn’t feel hurt or injured anywhere, he knew how that felt for sure, but he felt tired. He must have been asleep for God knows how long. His limbs felt heavy and his heart hurt like hell; after adjusting to the light and coming to his senses, he remembered the battle. He remembered Steve dying at his hand. He remembered holding Steve’s head in his hands.

He began to cry.

It was ugly the way he cried. He had never looked or sounded good when he cried, and so Bucky covered his face with his flesh hand and wept freely. It felt so unreal that Steve had died; it must have been a fucking fluke because Steve shouldn’t die. This shattered Bucky’s world for a second time and he couldn’t decide which time finding out Steve was gone was worse. 

“White Wolf?”

Bucky looked up at the girlish voice speaking to him, tears staining his cheeks and his eyes red and bleary. It was Shuri, all in black, leaning on the doorframe. Her beads must have given her the alert that Bucky was awake and that she could come visit him.

“Yes, Shur?”

“I wanted to ask how you were feeling.”

Bucky scoffed. “I feel like shit. My best friend is dead. And I was the one who killed him. All because I couldn’t shoot straight.”

“You can’t blame yourself like that. You have to forget  _ his  _ programming, White Wolf. I thought we worked on this.” Shuri sounded overwhelmed and exasperated; Bucky assumed that she was upset with him because all of her work on him had fallen apart in this moment.

“Yes, but right now it’s the best crutch I can fall back on. I guess all I do know is how to kill.”

“You need to stop talking like that.”

“Shur, what am I supposed to do? I loved him and I killed him. I kill everything I touch. It should have been me that died instead of Steve.”

There was a long pause as Shuri took several deep breaths and attempted to calm herself down. She had since wandered into the room as they spoke, and she promptly sat down in a chair before speaking again.

“I wanted to show you something.” Shuri fiddled around on her beads to find the one that had the image she needed.

“What?” Bucky tried to soften his tone so that he didn’t sound so angry and squawking.

“Captain Rogers and I had been working on a new suit together. New shield, too.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t even know how to respond. He furrowed his brows and looked at Shuri in confusion.

“Captain Rogers confided in me that if he died in this battle, in any battle, that he wanted it to be for you.”

“He wanted me to be Nomad?”

“No. He wanted you to be Captain America.”

Bucky’s mind went into overdrive. How could Steve do that? He and Steve had had so many conversations about Steve not picking up the shield again, about how the dream and romanticism of Captain America were for a different time, one when people actually believed heroes could save them. Why would Steve even want Bucky of all people to be Captain America? Sam would be the most ideal choice and would proudly defend the world. It didn’t make sense. 

“Why? I’m the last person who should be him.”

“Because you knew him best and you were the only one he deemed worthy enough! Why can’t you accept that maybe you  _ are  _ a good person and  _ are  _ able to change?”

There was a heavy, pregnant pause in the room as Bucky gripped his sheet with his flesh hand and Shuri was white-knuckling the arm of the chair. They shared a heavy gaze, neither speaking or breathing too loudly. Shuri rubbed underneath her eyes in obvious exhaustion. 

“I just lost my brother. He died, turned to dust. I have to be queen and Black Panther both. And I don’t have a choice.”

“But you are prepared for those roles, Shur. You have spent your whole life preparing for them, and most of my life has been spent as a mindless killer.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m fulfilling those roles because nobody else will and because it’s what must be done. It was asked of me,” Shuri explained. She was breathing heavily, like she was angry. Bucky had never seen her so worked up before. “Captain Rogers, the man you love, asked you to be Captain America. Don’t you think you should fulfill his dying wish?”

Bucky was silent. 

“Just think about it. I think it’ll help you come to terms with his death and bring you closer to him,” Shuri offered as she stood and left the room. She was about to leave before she stopped in the door frame, small hand resting against it. She looked over her shoulder, meeting Bucky’s eyes. She looked so sad, so distant. The life and spunk in her eyes was gone. 

“I’m sorry about your brother, Shuri,” was all Bucky could supply. She took a long exhale and rested her forehead against the post.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, White Wolf. And if you change your mind… come to my lab and I’ll show you the suit,” Shuri said before she left the room. Bucky heard her sneakers squeak against the floor, growing ever more faint as she got further away. 

As Bucky laid in his bed alone, shifting and moving around in discomfort, he turned over Shuri’s words in his head, trying to grapple with what he should do. He loved Steve with all his heart and didn’t want to disappoint him, but he also knew that becoming what Steve wanted him to be would involve overcoming so many personal mental obstacles. Even though he tried to live with his past, live with what he used to be, he could never accept it. And same past would haunt him every time he put on the suit or picked up the shield. It would weigh so heavy on him. 

But he thought of Steve. He didn’t want to disappoint him. There was nothing he wanted more than to prove himself to Steve and to gain his approval. He always tried to show to Steve that he was a new man, even when sometimes, he felt broken and worn. Steve had always been there to remind him that just living and working on getting better was the best thing he could do and that he was proud of him. The memories of Steve pulling him into a hug and saying he was so relieved to see him more like his old self or even just improving flooded into Bucky’s head and he weakly smiled against his pillows. 

Before he drifted off, Bucky promised himself that he would make his decision on what path to go on in the morning. 

~~~~~

“Shuri?” 

Bucky watched as Shuri set down her stylus and glance up from her work station. He smiled at her and he saw a flicker of hope alight in her eyes. 

“Yes, White Wolf?”

Bucky’s palms felt sweaty and his heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. His mouth suddenly felt dry and he licked his lips briefly before speaking. 

“I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> me, in ya brain: kudos/comment on this fic  
> you: but why  
> me, in ya brain: you gotta
> 
> ~Hunter


End file.
